


Your Face So Dear

by blanchtt



Series: 500X LEDA [9]
Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 05:47:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10610541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blanchtt/pseuds/blanchtt
Summary: It’s Helena’s pick, which is decent even if it’s not her type, Sarah has to admit as they enter – dark and packed and hot, bass around them so loud it makes Sarah’s breath catch in her throat.





	

**Author's Note:**

> #365 - words unspoken
> 
>    
> This idea came from a couple different places, namely music, clubbing, and reflections on National Sibling Day lmao. On second thought, the concept is similar to something else I've read, so please go read Purple Bruises by piggy09 because it's a million times better than this. I hope I've conveyed that I'm focusing on a different theme here in this fic.

 

 

 

They leave the kids with S, head back to her place, drink until it’s time to get ready, and leave.

 

It’s Helena’s pick, which is decent even if it’s not her type, Sarah has to admit as they enter – dark and packed and hot, bass around them so loud it makes Sarah’s breath catch in her throat. There’s an endless crowd waiting to get in behind them, and they’ve only done so thanks to Felix, and Sarah feels Helena thread their fingers together, urging her smack-dab into the middle of the dancefloor before she’s even had a chance to _look_ at the bar.

 

They force their way through sweaty, undulating bodies and pick a spot that suits Helena’s unspoken needs, and Sarah grins at Helena in the shifting light, gives her a little twirl with their clasped hands because why not, and then lets go. And just as they do every other day, they ignore almost everyone else around them, because Helena gets a lot of attention wherever they go and the club is no different.

 

(They’ve left the danger behind years ago, and the last time she split her knuckles open was punching some wanker at a bar who wouldn’t take a no from Helena as an answer.)

 

(She’d gained a sister and, exasperatingly, twice the amount of men to threaten.)

 

They catch the beginning of the next song and Sarah starts to dance next to her, enjoying herself but definitely enjoying herself _more_ as she watches in amusement, never having to wait too long until some brave soul squirms through the crowd to try to catch Helena’s attention.

 

The answer is mostly conveyed through signals – Helena twisting away, a literal cold shoulder, eyes closed as she dances. If that doesn’t do it, Sarah has to strain to hear and struggle not to smirk at the familiar _I don’t speak English_ that Helena’s learned to use as her (polite) trump card.

 

"What about him?" she'd tried to ask once, over the sound of the music, and had only gotten a disappointed frown from Helena, as if she should have known _better,_ Sarah _, really_.

 

But, sometimes, based on whatever criteria Sarah can't fathom, Helena will dance with someone for a moment, accept a drink.

 

But not long after Helena smiles, _almost_ demure to someone who wouldn't know better, and she’s too fucking angelic looking for the rejection to sting as she easily passes Sarah her free drink, Sarah gladly accepting whatever's pressed into her hand, or dances for a moment but guides a pretty woman to sway and grind with Sarah instead. 

                                                       

Within the press of bodies Sarah steps back, reaches up, pushes sweat-sticky curls away from where they cling to the already damp skin of her forehead. Tonight is no different – Brave Soul Number One is turned away, Helena too absorbed in the music to bother, movement of her hands and hips esoteric enough to give Cosima a run for her money.

 

And that rejection might have just been public enough to ward anyone off for a while. Sarah feels confident enough to unwind and let the music guide her, actually _relaxing_ , no fuckers to chase off, because Helena turns to her, steps close just shy of invading her personal space, and Sarah can’t help but feel a shit-eating grin spread over her face as she closes her eyes, dances a little looser as Helena picks _her_ to dance with.

 

 

 

 


End file.
